


no such thing (as getting out of hand)

by Alana



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Breeding, Cloacal Sex, Consent, Eggpreg, Kinks, Kissing, M/M, Oviposition, PWP, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, SizeKink, Tentacle Blowjob, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Xenophilia, but they're into it, one-way language barrier, sapient beings used as sex toys, scifi setting, technically prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-10-24 18:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alana/pseuds/Alana
Summary: Shr wants to surround the willing one now, wants to search its body with the arms it finds so beautiful, wants to find where it can carry his eggs, and he stretches out all his arms, wraps them around the creature, pulls it closer—It makes a surprised noise, then laughs and says, "Notyet, my beautiful one, not in thelobby," and Shr doesn't know what a lobby is but he's waited so long for this. He can wait a little longer.





	no such thing (as getting out of hand)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soulstoned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulstoned/gifts).

It has been so, so, so very long that Shr has waited.

He does not know how long. He came here, promised willing bodies, promised that he could have many, many safe places for the eggs he has been harboring for so long— but the trip was long, and he has not been given anything he had been promised. 

Shr wonders if no one wants him, and it makes him a little sad.

It is not that it is unpleasant here; he can raise his ocelli-tipped arm and look at things he never known existed. Each little shining eye is weak, but with all of them together, he can see clearly, brightly, both out into the strange, colorful, angular place he has been brought to, and the other way, past a sheet of crystal as clear as water, into the dazzling rainbow cloud consuming half the sky and the clear-burning stars sharing the other half. He does not want for food or comfort, a bath always an instant away to keep him fresh and soft, a cool dark place for when he tires of looking and squirming and wiggling.

He can even leave, sometimes, mingle with other of his kind when the lights are dimmed in the angular places; they are all very nice, but very small. He wonders if they left home because they thought it would be easier to be small, out here where there were no predators, and where the bodies were willing to be filled.

Some of them tell him, proudly, that they have spread their eggs far, further than any of them could have imagined. Some of them, shyly, tell him that they were born in this place, and beg for stories of the place he came from. None offer more eggs for him to fertilize, for he has never been rid of the batch he came here with.

He yearns for what he was promised. But he can wait.

* * *

When Shr hears the music, he can barely remember what it means. He has only heard it once, when he was brought here for the first time, when they were explaining how it would go in this strange new place.

But he hears the music now, and the hatch that leads to where he's never been opens, and he stretches his arms out, pulls himself from his bath, and listens for a moment.

He's been chosen.

Shr has been _chosen_.

Joy shakes him, and he sees his translucent skin darken; what was lazy, comfortable pink shades to violet and gold. He's a little embarrassed at how clearly eager he is, but not enough to keep from pulling himself into the hatch, along the short corridor, and squishing, trembling, into the clear-crystal box that will let him see the one who has chosen him.

It's a tight fit, and he has to leave several of his arms trailing behind him, down the corridor, as he peeks out at his willing new friend.

Perhaps, no matter what Shr saw, he would think it beautiful. Certainly the warm browns and soft blacks of the creature's skin and fur were nothing like what Shr would look for in one of his own kind, and it was slender, so much smaller than he would have caught and used for his eggs back home— but it comes close, and lays one of its stiff little appendages against the clear-crystal, just an inch away from Shr.

"Oh, you're beautiful," it says, and Shr twists and rolls and squeaks with giggles. He is, he is, and so is this one who chose him, and he bumps against the clearcrystal, curls an arm over where the willing one touches. He wants to feel it, he wants to touch it, he wants to take it—

Some other creature, one of the ones with a sharp predator-beak and a spray of colorful feathers draping from its shoulders like a strange flower, is chattering away.

"Are you certain this is the one you want? It's never been— well— it's never been rented before, we're not sure how it will behave," it's saying, and its clawed toes are tapping on the ground. "For your first rental, perhaps one of the smaller, more experienced ones would be better—"

Shr bumps his body against the clear-crystal walls again. No, no, he's the best one, take him! he cries out, soft sighs and squeaks and ripples of color across his skin.

"This one," the willing one says, and Shr rolls, happily, misses whatever predator-beak says, and suddenly the crystal-glass is pulling upwards, letting him out— his arms and his body and more arms, free at last.

He curls his arms around the willing one's little appendage, the one with the five little arms at the end, slides them up the bare, stiff arm it's attached to, and coos when the willing one replies by petting over his soft body, gently, sweetly. 

"Beautiful," the willing one murmurs again, and Shr didn't know that this kind of creature could change colors too, but the place where it keeps its eyes and mouth is shading darker, redder, and Shr is certain it's excited, too. _Beautiful._ Shr wants to surround the willing one now, wants to search its body with the arms it finds so beautiful, wants to find where it can carry his eggs, and he stretches out all his arms, wraps them around the creature, pulls it closer—

It makes a surprised noise, then laughs and says, "Not _yet_, my beautiful one, not in the _lobby_," and Shr doesn't know what a lobby is but he's waited so long for this. He can wait a little longer.

* * *

Shr is as patient as he can be, letting the willing one guide him to another place he's never been, where the hatch closes behind them so they're the only ones there. He's patient, watching the willing one remove the coverings they wear, baring more of its beautiful red-tinting skin— but he does slide his arms across the skin, as it's revealed, and the willing one makes strange, wonderful noises, turns redder, lets its arms be caressed, pushes its body against the caresses across its front.

He's a little less patient as the willing one pulls back its long mane and ties it in place— he's ready, and the willing one is breathing hard, and he thinks that means it's ready, too, but it hasn't told him that it's _yet_ yet, and Shr is all but vibrating in desperation, arms coiling up the walls, around the platform the willing one is settling down against, skin rainbowing with colors.

Then the willing one sighs, "Okay," and Shr's arms pull him up onto the platform in a blink, his body pressing close against the willing one's warm, bare skin, feeling the unfamiliar, firm shape of the creature against his soft underbelly— the willing one cries out, in what would be an alarm if Shr were still at home, but both sets of its own arms spread to try and hold Shr in return, and it arches, rubbing up against him. And Shr hasn't done anything yet! He squeaks, laughing, and explores the willing one with his arms, stroking its limbs and body and face.

The willing one moans, and lets its limbs be manipulated, pushes into every one of Shr's touches, like nothing Shr has ever had before. Shr's certain he doesn't even need to poison it into pliability!

He doesn't see it coming when the willing one turns its head and puts its mouth on one of his arms, and he stiffens in surprise, limbs clamping down around it— is it biting? Is it going to try and eat him? But no, its mouth is just pressed against him, and after a nervous moment he relaxes again, letting his arm be touched with its mouth as he squeezes the muscle-over-bone softfirmness of one of its lower arms. It's not unpleasant at all, to be touched back, to be _caressed_ back, and if it wants to caress with its mouth, who is Shr to say no?

— But then Shr almost says no, when its mouth finds the end of his arm, and wraps around it— he stiffens again, alarmed, but while he can feel the teeth, they only brush, not chomp. He is not being attacked. His willing one is doing something else, something that's making it moan around his arm, sucking and licking and...

Shr has never particularly _wanted_ to be down someone else's throat, but the sensitive tip of his arm is being given such _attention_...! He uncertainly squirms, lets his willing one suck and lick and bob its head, mouth stretched wide but teeth still harmless against Shr's skin. And inside, the heat and wetness, the tongue eagerly licking— the throat closing tight around the very tip of his arm when his wonderful willing one pushes forward—

—the gasping noises it makes, when it pulls back, like Shr is already inside it—

He could like being down a throat like _this_, he thinks, and thrusts, gently, pressing its head back against the softness of the platform, filling its mouth and teasing deeper into its throat. Its eyes flutter shut, and it arches, and when he pulls his arm back to just barely rest on its lips, it gasps for breath, whimpers and licks eagerly, spreads it mouth open to beg for his arm back.

Oh, how willing his willing one is! Shr hadn't even known one could be willing for something like this!

With a squeaking laugh, Shr makes sure his arm keeps thrusting inside his new favorite creature's mouth, slow and steady, and continues his exploration of his sweet willing one. When he strokes across its belly, he enjoys the noises it makes around his arm, and when the stroke catches around a stiff protrusion from between its lower legs, he _very_ much enjoys the soft cry, the little ends of its upper arms clutching at his arms and slipping across his skin, unable to gain grip. He wiggles, excitedly, and curls an arm around the protrusion entirely, one loop easily surrounding it; his willing one bucks its hips, thrusts up into the contact, whines at Shr until the arm in its mouth fills its throat again.

What a wonderful creature...!

And, though he's never asked, wouldn't know how to ask, he thinks he knows what the stiff thing is... though it's very different from what he has, unmoving but for the hips behind it. His own is curling aimlessly in the air, untouched, unreachable for the creature's short arms when Shr's body is pressing it so thoroughly to the platform...

This creature really is so small. He never would have had this kind of trouble if he'd caught something back home... but he also wants it, needs it, _he_ was chosen by _it_ over every other one of his kind it could have had, and a pleased ripple of purple stripes across him. He'll make it work.

Gently, sweetly, rubbing close to its body, Shr wraps arms around the creature, slipping under it when its back arches and its hips move, still filling its mouth and throat over and over and caressing its cock. It's easy, moving the willing one, twisting so Shr is belly-up under it, and it can thrust down against him— it whines and whimpers and quivers, as it thrusts, as Shr drags it down his body, as its lower arms are wound around by his own lowermost arms, spreading them and holding it almost-still. When he lets go of its cock, it makes a noise of protest— he sighs soothingly, and pats it, and wraps his own cock around it, more slender and less dextrous than his arms— but more than good enough for this, and more than enough to engulf his willing one's cock in warmth and slickness.

It cries out in delight around his arm, curls its own shaking arms against his belly, and thrusts, head tipped back. Its panting breaths are hot against his skin, and its cock is hot against his, and he squeaks his encouragement; his own cock leaving his willing one's stomach slimy and slippery as it's rubbed against both of them with his creature's thrusting—

and the darling creature tenses, voice choked around Shr's arm, and hot wetness splatters against Shr's cock.

* * *

Concerned for his darling willing creature, Shr waits, one arm lingering on its cheek and the others petting its body as it has pet him, as it gasps against him, head pressed to his belly, Its hair is coming loose, and it looks so dark against Shr's skin, and tickles ever so slightly; he thinks about that, peering down his body at his creature, instead of wondering if he did something wrong.

"Fuck," his creature says, after a long while, which is not a word Shr has learned; its voice sounds different, strange, thin and bumpy, and one of its upper arms slides down, pets Shr's belly. Shr replies with a soft sigh, wondering for its happiness, its health— was that supposed to happen? "S-sorry," it replies, though it couldn't have understood his words, "I didn't— it was—"

Its lips are on his skin again, against his soft belly, and he squirms a little at the feeling of them moving, the soft brush of air as his little willing one breathes.

"... really good," it concludes, eventually, and Shr had all but forgotten the last thing it said, but _really good_ sounds really good, and he squeaks happily, curls his arms tighter around his lovely willing one, squeezing a breath out of it before he loosens his grip again. "And we— it's—" it murmurs, pushing itself up a little, looking back up at Shr, "— it's not... over, right?"

No, no, it's not over, Shr has paused for the sake of his willing one, but he's still ready, still needing, and he wiggles and moves eagerly under the willing one, cock uncurling from around its softening one (strange, so strange!) to smear across its bellyside.

It looks down at Shr's cock, and bites its lip and moans breathlessly and runs one warm arm-end down it, the little tiny bendy parts of its arm able to wrap around less and less as they approach the thick base. It tugs his cock, gently, to mostly straight in its grip, fingers slipping against the slime, and moans again as it lays neatly along its arm, from fingers to bend and then a little longer still. Shr is not sure what part of this is giving his willing one pleasure, but he's certainly not complaining, cock curling eagerly against the warmth, his own breath coming out in sighs and tiny squeaks. It's not what he truly deeply needs, not anything to release his eggs for— but it can be pleasant all the same, and Shr wants his willing creature to know he likes it.

"Oh, fuck," his willing one says again, voice still rough, and Shr decides that _fuck_ must mean something good; he squeaks a giggle at it, and pets arms over its arms, pulls it close and rubs against it, and his beautiful willing creature allows it for a little bit.

Then it pushes back, a little, pushes itself away, and Shr waits and watches, curiously, as it takes a grip on its cock, and guides it back, behind its own, to the soft musclefat at the top of its lower arms. A lovely, squeezable area, to be sure—

And then it guides him to press against a tight hole, and he sings delightedly, colors racing across him. Oh, oh, here it is, here's where he needs to be—his cock rubs against it, and his arms wrap around his willing one's lower arms, spreading them wide, working his cock against them in eager curves and wiggles as he tries to press into his willing one's hole. But the hole is resisting— how rude— he _needs_ this— and with a little sigh of frustration, he pulls his willing one close, unhides his own beak from behind its folds of flesh, and gives it a poisonous nip on its neck.

It draws a yelp out of the willing one, and it squirms atop Shr, and Shr can feel it pant against him, and feel a few drops of its hot alien blood fall against his belly. Shr holds it firm, and sighs up at it, and rubs the length of his cock between its lower arms, across its tight hole, between the layers of softness on either side of its hole, until the tip of his cock is curling in the dip of its back.

That seems to distract it— its yelping fading into moaning— or maybe it's Shr's poison, even in the mild little dose he gave. But the poison shouldn't make the willing one rub down against Shr's cock, limbs trembling... that, Shr thinks smugly, is all him, not just his poison, and he coils and rubs between its legs for a little longer, until it starts trembling trying to stay propped up on its arms.

Poor thing! Shr wraps his own arms around its, holding it still and steady, and for good measure wraps another arm around its body, to make sure it doesn't collapse. Then he tries its hole again.

For a moment, he thinks he might need to poison his lovely willing one a little more, help it relax— but then he feels the hole start to spread for him, so, so, so tight, so hot, so slow to spread for his cock, but opening up for him, and he sighs dreamily. He's waited so long, and finally, finally, _finally..._

The willing one is gasping, whining, squirming weakly in his grip, head dropped down, too heavy to hold up under the poison, and Shr tells it that he'll take care of everything, that all it needs to do is be here, and Shr can do the rest. The willing one doesn't reply, but that's fine— Shr really can do all the rest, can tip it upright, one set of its arms spread for his cock and the other held tight to keep it steady. He can push a spare arm gently into its mouth, thrusting in the way it had so liked before, though its tongue is sluggish and its warm, wet throat more giving, letting his arm press deeper still with ease. And he can pull it down as his cock pushes up, as the poison takes more and more effect, and slowly, his cock starts to slide past its entrance, and it's absolute bliss.

How long has it been since he was inside something else? How long since he felt this kind of heat, this kind of tightness? It's been forever, and never, for this is so different— so very, very tight around him, but soft, somehow, softness in the middle of this bone-filled body. And never before has he gotten the first little bit of his cock in, pressing against every inch of the inside walls, and heard his poisoned prey cry out in pleasure! But oh, he's glad it's pleasure, and he sings happily up at his willing one, _me too, me too, you feel wonderful,_, and thrusts, harder, pulls harder, slides deeper into his willing one in eager shoves and presses. 

His willing one cries out with each inch Shr pushes in, when its throat isn't filled with Shr's arm, and Shr loves it. His hole that he's filling, so warm, so tight, so soft, so wonderful, clings around his cock, and Shr is certain it was made for him, somehow— his willing one is so small, and yet Shr can be inside it, can be more and more inside. Shr is beginning to think, perhaps, that he loves his willing one, at least in this moment, because this is good— too good— too wonderfully good— pressing and squirming his cock deeper and deeper into the hot, perfect incubator of his willing darling—

He can even, he realizes, feel his own cock moving, the arm around its waist feeling the way his cock is deep and thick inside it and rounding out its stomach, and he's never felt that, either. He shudders under his lovely creature, rubs his arm against the bulge his cock is making, rubs his cock against the pressure of his arm, and the willing one groans, faintly, body limp and trembling, held in place only by the parts of Shr inside or wrapped around it.

It's all Shr's, and Shr can do whatever he wants with it, helplessly full from two ends as it is. He can move it however he wants, can touch it all over, it's his wonderful willing creature and he can do anything, and Shr feels giddy with power as he slowly drags his cock out of it, until it's sitting with the tip lightly rubbing at his darling's hole, teasing it with slick slime and its thickness and the promise that the willing one could be filled again at any moment, and his willing one nearly sobs, making Shr's body light up in delight. He pushes in again, rougher, and rubs his cock against the bit inside of his darling that made it cry out with pleasure before, and he can feel its body jerk and twitch against his hold, feel its throat struggle to let out a noise when Shr's arm is already stuffing it. He can spread its legs wide, and tease slowly, so slowly, with filling it up again, except this time he lets his cock coil and twist more than it needs to— spreading his willing one open more— pulling it further down his cock than he managed before, rounding out its stomach, and Shr can't help but think that he'll be able to see his eggs, too, filling his willing one, rounding him out... proof that his willing one came to him, wanted him, thought he was beautiful...!

His willing one arches in his grip and shudders all over, poison or no, when the first swell of an egg slides up Shr's cock, presses against the resistance of its hole for a second, and then pops through— Shr shudders, too, feeing the ripple of tightness as the egg slides up and up and deep, deep inside his willing one, the _wonderful_ relief of it sliding free from his cock and nestling into the safe warmth of the beautiful creature's insides. Shr sings, adoringly, as another egg follows the first, and another, cock slowly pushed back as he fills his willing one with egg after egg after egg, and he was _right_, he _can_ feel them, feel the solid, full roundness of its belly— Shr shudders agains, caresses its face with a free arm, caresses its belly gently and soothingly as it stretches around his children. He knows that he should stop, soon, keep some in reserve, for the next time he has a chance to breed, but... oh, the way his willing one writhes and trembles, weak with poison, but its hips still move desperately, the way it's gasping and whimpering, the way its body _looks_ with the soft roundness of eggs nestled inside it...!

So he keeps going, and going, more eggs than he's ever laid in one creature before; another splash of the hot liquid drips across Shr's belly, and his willing one's noises are rough-edged, ragged-breathed, absolutely beautiful. It's nearly hypnotizing, feeing each egg press into its hole, the sweet release of each egg leaving his cock and nestling within its incubator, watching strands of loosening mane fall across the willing one's face as it whines and whimpers around Shr's arm. Egg after egg, whimper after whimper, belly swollen more than it had been with Shr's cock alone, and then— eventually— the last egg he has slides out of Shr's cock, leaving him feeling so incredibly, satisfyingly empty. He's never laid an entire batch in one creature before— it was always too risky, the creatures large and dangerous, and him not wanting to risk them all in one place— but now he has, and he thinks he likes the feeling, of being drained so completely, of giving his beautiful willing one everything he had and everything it wanted.

He also thinks he's ready to rest, and he gently lets his creature down, unplugs its mouth, lets it gasp and shiver as it lays against him; he can still feel the shape of its swollen belly, pressing against the hollow softness of his own, feel his slime dripping down from his willing one's hole, feel the quick thumping of its heart, high in its body. He can feel the way his willing one rubs its face into his skin, below his hidden mouth, and whispers, voice even stranger and thinner than before, "Oh, fuck..."

Shr laughs a dreamy laugh, quiet scattered squeaks, and drapes arms and arms and arms around his creature, rocks gently with it pressed close, and lets himself slide into satisfied sleep.

* * *

Eventually, he stirs when his beautiful creature tries, weakly, to free itself from his arms, each one as heavy across its back as itself. He sings, soft and drowsy, and lets it go, since it wants to move; it goes, first, each step wobbling and a hand on its belly, to the side of the room, where a round circle above it starts to rain.

Shr wakes more, and rolls off the platform, stretches his arms out to pull him to the little rainstorm his willing one summoned up, eager to wet his skin. He could go longer without water, but oh, it sounds nice...

The willing one groans when Shr's limbs sneak into its space, turns towards him, leans back against the wall, its eyes darker and cheeks flushed and lips parted. It's rubbing its belly, and Shr tells it, skin going plum with admiration, that it's beautiful, that it looks _good_ with his eggs inside it. He knows it can't understand. He wants to tell it anyways.

"S-sorry, I— I don't think I'm up for... for a round two," his willing one says, and its voice is still coarse and strange, and Shr giggles. What round two could there be? Shr's all out of eggs, and he's not sure he can fit any more inside— oh, but its cock is hard, the topside of it pressing against the new roundness above it. What about this? Shr asks, a playful coo to his voice, this looks up to him? He winds arms up its lower pair, and one curls around it and under its belly while the other wraps its cock in a friendly caress. It whimpers, knees buckling, held up by Shr's arms and its back to the wall, and Shr giggles again, urges it to thrust with a tug on its hips.

Slowly, shaking, it complies and thrusts, one arm cupping and rubbing its belly, over _Shr's eggs_. The other lays its tip loosely over the arm Shr's letting it mate with— why, before today, had Shr ever even thought about letting something else mate with _him_?

Suddenly he feels very awake, alight with things he'd never considered, and sighs up at his willing one, wondering if _it_ would like that. No time like now to find out, though; he ignores its sad cry when he lets go of its cock, its hips bucking in the air, and it slides down the wall, to the ground, when Shr lets it go entirely. But he need the limbs to move, to roll over in the rain, to wrap around its upper arms and body and below its delicate belly. He tugs it close again, down atop him, its back against the the warm and pleasant rain spilling over them. He still feels a little empty, without his eggs, but maybe it can help with that? Maybe, if he uses his cock, uses it to guide his willing one, it can fill him with its hot liquid, nothing like what it should be— oh, it feels a little wrong in such a _wonderful_ way to let someone put something besides a string of unfertilized eggs inside him. He shouldn't, but look at how brave and adventurous his willing one was, it makes Shr want to try new things, too, see how good he can feel...

He's rippling violet and gold again before he even starts setting his plans in motion, and this time he can't even be embarrassed at how excited he is, especially when his trembling darling lays its arms against his belly, looks up at his ocelli, its eyes wide and dark and lovely, and says, "You're— you're enthusiastic, huh?" with a shaking little laugh. Shr laughs with it, bubbling with fondness, and pets arms over its cheeks, its soaked mane, its boney back with its soft, soft skin, and wraps his cock around its own. It thrusts, a little weakly, and rubs against the coils of Shr's cock, letting its face fall to his belly, and that's _very_ nice indeed, but not what Shr means for it to do. He curls his lowermost tentacles around its hips, keeping it steady as Shr guides its cock. It makes a little noise in response, half-complaint, half-curious; Shr strokes its back again, and presses the tip of its cock to his own hole, a heated thrill going through him. He's going to really do it, put something that doesn't belong inside him inside him, and he'll get to see his willing one enjoy itself even more—

The willing one shudders against him, and Shr sighs reassuringly back, cock withdrawing to rub over the warm, firm swell of its belly, pressed between it and Shr. "Oh, oh, oh my god," it whispers, and pushes its hips forward, interrupting Shr's giggle with the new, alien sensation— something stiff, something unbending, something hotter than Shr's body, pushing inside of him, and he lets out a surprised, eager noise. His body doesn't quite know what to do with the feeling, squeezing down, trying to encourage eggs along, get a nice clutch to fertilize— but there'll be no eggs coming, only his darling willing lover. And oh, it seems to like it very much, groaning, wrapping its arms around as much of Shr's body as it can. It's clearly exhausted, clumsy and slow with the weight of eggs inside it, but still so _willing_, so happy to be atop Shr, to push its alien cock where eggs should go, to rest its head against Shr... so willing to be pet and admired and told in ways it can't understand that Shr likes it so very, very much.

And so willing to thrust!

Shr trembles and giggles and sighs under the wonderful creature, feeling his hole clutching eagerly as his willing one's cock pulls away, such a _wonderfully_ teasing drag of sensation— feels the way his insides are rippling around his lover, trying to lure out eggs, and the excitingly naughty idea that there won't be any eggs coming, that he's just doing this for _fun._ That he _can_ just do this for fun, let some wonderful alien fuck him, let himself be the host for his lover's eggless emissions— is this what brings the willing ones to his kind? The chance to do something because you enjoy doing it? The chance to breed, to be bred, just for the joy of sensation?

He loves the hedonism of it, and fondness for his willing one swells in him, as it fucks him with clumsy, exhausted enthusiasm, panting and moaning against him. He can feel it trembling, each of its four arms, its back, all slick with the rain pouring down on them as Shr pets and cuddles it— but it's still working hard for its pleasure, and for Shr's, and he feels warm all through, warmer than just the heat of the water and the heat of his lover would account for. (He'd like to whisper to the willing one, tell it 

It's with a sudden, soft cry and a rough thrust into Shr's hole that it comes, hot liquid shooting out in a few little spurts inside him— and it's so warm, he can feel it sliding inside him, feel it as his body eagerly squeezes it deeper, no eggs but _something_ that it can store inside Shr, try to fertilize, try to make ready for next time he mates. He giggles, joyfully, at the pleasure of the heat inside him, the pleasant feeling of his hole clenching even if it clenches around nothing but the willing one's cock; his lover groans, going so limp that it's almost like it became as boneless as him, but stays buried in him. And between them, Shr's cock can caress that lovely egg-filled belly he gave his willing one...!

They lay there for a while, entwined with each other, the water raining down on them as the willing one catches its breath and Shr pets its back.

Eventually, his lover groans faintly, and pulls its hips back, rolls aside— Shr sighs, lets it down gently against the hard floor, where it leans against his side, mane wet and ruffled and sticking to Shr's skin. He twists an ocelli-arm to peek at it, sitting beside him, and sings softly in admiration; the lovely creature rub its cheek into Shr's side, with an exhausted but not unhappy noise, and Shr winds some arms around it, heavy and friendly, as it rests with him under the warm rain.

* * *

Neither of them quite fall asleep again, but they lay there for a long time, Shr feeling warm and satisfied in ways he couldn't remember ever feeling before. There was the satisfaction of breeding, of course— but he could have had that just from pushing four or five eggs into anything warm, anything that could host them. But he'd done more than just a few eggs— so, so, so much more, filling his willing one to the brim, bringing it such _pleasure_ as he did, pleasure that pleased him in return. He'd done things he'd never thought of before, let an alien come inside of him, let it swallow around the tip of one of his arms, done almost everything without having to use poison to make the creature helpless and pliable in his arms... what else could he do, next time a willing one comes to him? The same thing all over again would be excellent and exciting, but he's sure there's more he could learn, more things he can do...

His mind wandering, Shr doesn't notice much when his willing one squirms a little against his side, biting its lip as it raises its head and looks up and down his drowsy-pink body. He does notice, a little, when it starts petting him, and he sighs, pleasantly, as his mind wanders more, imagines his little alien captured under his body like the unwilling creatures back home, imagines how it might cry out and praise him as fucks it again...

Shr definitely notices when the petting hands find his cock, and he squeaks, arms flexing in surprise around his willing one, cock curling towards the unexpected contact. For someone who's not up for round two— he starts to say, peering down at his willing one, and then watches as it strokes its hands up its cock, and down, circles it base with its arm-tips and licks its lips when they don't meet around it.

Once more, Shr's not quite sure what pleasure this gives to his willing one, but he's certainly not complaining when it involves his cock being so lovingly stroked and caressed and admired, and he sings and sighs at the affection, returning it with stroking tentacles over his lovely creature's wet skin. He may not have any eggs left to give, but it still feels _good_ to be caressed, to be pet and admired and treated so nicely— and it feels good to have his willing one so clearly enjoy it, whatever its mysterious reasons are.

It feels even better when his willing one, with a shy glance from behind its curtain of wet hair, pulls Shr's cock towards it, and slides its mouth against the side, a soft little moan breathed across the sensitive surface. The fear of being chomped is a fleeting thing— Shr doesn't even finish tensing before he relaxes, and he sings out his approval of his lovely creature's gentle, affectionate touches. His cock definitely approves as well— he has no more eggs to give, and before he might have considered doing more pointless, a waste of energy, and likely dangerous if his poison wore off. Now, he has all the time in the world, and someone who doesn't need to be poisoned, and no reason not to let himself be caressed with arms and mouth and— mmm!— and a lovely warm tongue.

Shr's cock eagerly rubs into the contact, and Shr relaxes to enjoy the tingles of pleasure, the faint ache of his belly trying to push eggs that aren't there into his cock, the warmth of the willing one and the satisfaction he feels listening to it moan and murmur. It's wonderfully pleasant, and Shr drifts a little, letting his cock do whatever it likes without conscious direction— which is mostly pliantly moving with or rubbing into the willing one's touches.

Unfocused as he is, he doesn't take note of his willing one's mouth drifting up towards the tip of his cock until, suddenly, it's enveloped it its alien warmth.

Shr squeaks, surprised and suddenly very aware, and looks down to see its mouth wrapped around his cock like it had been wrapped around his arm, its eyes blissfully closed as it makes a muffled, low noise. Oh... oh, he can't say he doesn't like this, not when his willing one clearly likes it so much, and a soft song rises up out of him. Is this what the willing one imagined, when it was sucking at his arm? Was it dreaming of his cock all along? He wouldn't lay eggs in something's _mouth_, it would defeat the purpose, but— but he doesn't have eggs, not right now, and maybe that's why his willing one is so enthusiastic, knowing its belly holds every egg Shr had to give it. Now it can suck and lick and (oh!) let Shr's cock spread its mouth wide open as it encourages it deeper, towards its throat— oh, it was strange but pleasant before, but now it's _spectacular_, feeling the wet heat around his cock instead of an arm, feeling its throat shiver and squeeze as it swallows around him, and he cries out with soft, eager chirps. The willing one replies with moans and gasps each time it pulls back for a breath— but just a breath or two, and it's diving back forward, eagerly and willingly taking all of Shr's cock that it can.

It's not much of his cock, less than it can hold in its arm-ends, but the sensation and the noises the willing one makes are more than enough to work Shr up. His cock is eagerly thrusting against its throat and twisting against its touch, rubbing eagerly against its tongue, and each time it nudges into the creature's throat and gets swallowed around, the burst of pleasure makes Shr shiver and sigh, insides trembling as they squeeze around nothing-at-all, and the willing one is shivering too, where Shr's rest against its skin. How perfect it is...! How lucky Shr is! How _good_ it feels, and he doesn't have to do anything at all for it...!

The willing one whimpers when Shr's cock starts to leak slime down its throat, slicking the way for eggs that won't come, and Shr watches it drop one arm, rubbing it over its belly before wrapping around its own cock, making Shr giggle with giddy delight. Doesn't this make round three! he sings, wrapping an arm around its back and side, caressing the side of its belly, but of course he gets no answer— even if it could understand Shr, his lover's mouth is a little occupied with sucking desperately at him and gasping as it pleasures itself.

Shr has a very, very naughty thought right about then, and he sings again, this time in sly curiosity. If the willing one sucked his arm before in place of his cock... he asks, knowing that his lover can't answer, and slides the tip of his arm down, wraps it around his lover's body entirely, and slides the tip of it between the soft-muscular padding on the back of its hips. If before, he repeats, his arm did what the willing one wanted his cock to do... does that mean his arm's almost as good as his cock for the willing one's pleasure?

The willing one doesn't seem to realize what Shr's doing until his arm's tip presses against its hole; then it starts in surprise, moans around his cock, and tilts its hips, clearly welcoming the contact. (Of course it does, Shr thinks smugly to himself, Shr is _very_ beautiful and his willing one is _so_ eager to enjoy itself.) 

It trembles as Shr's arm rubs and nudges and slides against its hole, whines and jerks in surprise at another wave of slime down its throat, and lets out a muffled, desperate cry when Shr's arm slowly starts to spread its hole open again. Shr can't quite see it, but it can feel that his willing one is rubbing desperately at its own cock, feel the way it shifts against him with every stroke, feel the waves of its pleasure squeeze around his arm as he fills it once more, spreading it open and stroking its insides with tender attention. Shr sings to it, sighs to it, strokes his cock in its mouth, and trembles with his own pleasure...

The willing one finishes quickly like this, crying out around Shr's cock, and Shr feels the splash of heat against his side before the warm rain rinses it away. He squeaks delight to his lover, and lets his cock slip from its mouth, drag across its lower lip— but it pushes forward, wraps its arms around his cock again, and says, hungrily, voice again strange and rough, "No, fuck, more—" before licking up to his tip, tongue wet and slick with Shr's own slime. Its body is trembling, and it leans heavily against his side— Shr's certain it's exhausted— but he can't deny its determination, and he sings with pleasure as his lover's mouth wraps around his cock again, rocks his arm into its hole, and lets it do what it clearly wants to.

* * *

Shr feels exhausted, hungry, absolutely drained, and more satisfied with life than he can remember ever being. Draped over the soft platform with his lover half-leaning against it and him, most of his arms are curled in sleepy formations on the floor around him; one of them, he's using to gently stroke the willing one's damp hair, its soft-skinned cheek, its solid-boned arms, soothing its overwhelmed trembling as it struggles to pull coverings back over its body.

Partway through, it looks a little dismayed that the roundness of its laden belly keeps the coverings from joining in the middle. Shr thinks that the willing one looks better this way than it did before (he pets, tenderly, across where his eggs are being held, his children so happily implanted in his willing one), but the aliens here do seem to consider coverings important— perhaps it's naughty to let your egg-swollen belly peek out where everyone can see it.

Shr thinks to himself, with a sleepy giggle, that it's a little late for his darling to start being shy and opposed to naughtiness, and draws a glance from his willing one, its soft mouth curved. "Man, everyone's going to know where I've been," it says, and Shr ripples in pleased purples. sings approvingly, and gets a little laugh in return, though its face is red-flushed and its gaze seems to be falling elsewhere as it tries to tug its coverings over its skin. "Maybe I can borrow a jacket," it mumbles, and Shr thinks it's very cute, how it's concerned about how visibly impregnated it is. If it didn't want this, surely it wouldn't have come to him, and then come on him and in him and on him again? Aliens are strange, wonderful things.

After a few more moments of fussing and letting itself be pet by Shr's arms, the willing one turns towards Shr, and with a bashful smile, leans over him to press its mouth and face between his ocelli-arms, a soft, warm pressure against Shr's skin. He squeaks, pleased, having decided that this alien in particular uses its soft, wet, wonderful mouth to show affection (and how much affection Shr's been shown today!), and returns the pleasant touch with arms curling around his willing one and petting its back for a few moments. "I'll, uh, see you later," it says, and pets Shr's back in return before turning away to leave.

Shr sings back, sings that he hopes later is soon, hopes to see his beautiful willing one again, that he'll make sure to keep eggs ready just for it— that even if someone else chooses Shr, that this night and this willing one will always be special and wonderful and his favorite. It doesn't understand, but it stops and smiles back before opening the hatch that lets it out of the place they've been, and vanishes into the hall.

He can't wait to see it again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope @soulstoned enjoys this! I definitely enjoyed writing it!


End file.
